


“Show some respect on this deck for the dear departed”, 12 mini-vignettes about Nagina´s death

by AzureAngel2



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 22:48:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14091396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureAngel2/pseuds/AzureAngel2
Summary: Summary: An announcement of death makes its way through various communication channels of the Empire.Time frame: The story takes place a day after the failed coup of Headmaster Gentis on Coruscant (19 BBY).Continuity: Before the Saga – Legends mix-upLength: 12 mini-vignettes:1. Sate Pestage on Coruscant *2. Mara Jade on Chandrilla3. Mon Mothma on Chandrilla4. Darth Vader on Coruscant5. Governor Ryder Azadi on Lothal6. Wilhuff Tarkin on board the "Executrix" *7. Bail Organa on Alderaan8. Gallius Rax on Jakku *9. Maul on Malachor10. Aurra Sing on board the "Slave I"11. Prince Xizor in his favourite restaurant on Coruscant12. Saw Gerrera on Jedha (yet to come!!!)Genre: Drama with a bit of humourPlanet of choice: several worldsDisclaimer: SW is owned by George Lucas, Lucas Ltd. and now The Walt Disney Company





	“Show some respect on this deck for the dear departed”, 12 mini-vignettes about Nagina´s death

**Title: _“Show some respect on this deck for the dear departed”_**

 

 

** 1\. Sate Pestage on Coruscant **

  
The message was simple. It was a small flimsi sheet that had came in via the Shawda club sandwich that he had ordered in CoCo Town. The text was written in Aurebesh. One sentence only: “Unicorn down!”

Sate Pestage smiled and threw the sheet straight into the fire of his chimney. While the flames consumed it, he pulled himself a generous glass of Naboo blossom wine. He left the wine to breath for a while and turned to the sandwich. To enjoy it much longer, he used his silver cutlery. Every bite he took was divine.

For an alien creature Dexter Jettster was an amazing chéf. A pity he had decided to feed the working class of Coruscant. A restaurant like the 'Manarai' would have been a more suitable environment for the Besalisk.

Fat dripped from the Naboo man’s mouth and he cleaned it neatly with a napkin.

Nagina’s assassination had been one of the most secret military operations that the Imperial advisor ever got involved in. His double agent had been successfully placed into the group of males and females that acted around the notorious war criminal Saw Gerrera. The aim had been simple. To lure the terrorists to Lothal. There the unfortunate target had revealed itself.

That Headmaster Gentis had orchestrated a coup against Sheev at the same time had come in handy. The focus of his old childhood friend had been on survival and not on the well-being of his niece.

Regret formed in Sate Pestage. To slit Nagina’s throat open all by himself would have given him a much greater satisfaction. But Wilhuff Tarkin and Gallius Rax had made a pact with him. So no member of their triumvirate had been allowed to hunt her down personally.

The Imperial advisor put the napkin aside again.

The links with a double agent were easy to cut off. To dispose of such a person was not a great problem either. In case of a thorough investigation Saw Gerrera would be blamed anyway.

Sate Pestage finished his wine in silence, thanking the dark side of the Force that his cursed god child was no more.

Nagina had been a trouble maker from the start, hindering the career of her uncle. The glory of the Empire could have arisen sooner. She had been a distraction, of late even a whistle-blower. To eliminate her had been a necessity.

The Naboo man hoped that her death would make Sheev more feral, more sinister. That not an inch of goodness was left in him. A Sith with a heart was a burden.

 

 

**2\. Mara Jade on Chandrilla**

  
Sometimes the Force sent visions to individuals that were responsive mediums. Those visions were not always clear in their nature. They could be weak echoes of the past, their colours somewhat faded like ancient oil paintings. Or the visions could come as confusing glimpses of the future that looked like a badly edited holo music clip.

To get a message from the present was a rare occasion. The sharpness of the images and feelings that she just had received was frightening.

Mara willed her heartbeat to slow down again. Then she rubbed her eyes and stared at her alarm clock.

Here on Chandrilla it was the middle of the night still. Apart from her everybody else in the Anil family home was asleep.

The young girl fidgeted a moment before she left her bedroom.

Barefoot, Mara walked through the corridor until she stopped in front of her foster parents’ bedroom door. Inside she heard Chetan Anil snore. Ever so carefully she turned the door knob and peaked inside. The moon light shone right on Gita Anil. Despite her husband’s monstrous noises she looked peaceful.

Sighing, the girl closed the door again.

The elderly couple deserved their sleep. Perhaps it was better for them to get the news in the morning. Then they at least would be well rested. It was even better for them to deal with the tragedy after breakfast.

Mara decided to walk downstairs.

Once in the hallway, she left the house through the front door and walked onto the lawn. But she did not stop there. She climbed over the fence that surrounded the Anil property and vanished into the grass sea.

It was a mild night and the feeling of the grass underneath her soles was nice.

After a while Mara lay down, her arms and legs opened wide. Pretending to be a little starfish she looked into the night sky.

“May the Force be with you, Nagina! Always.”

The girl had seen exactly who had done the gruesome deed and why. But revenge was not her aim. The Force would balance itself out. It was not her place to demand justice.

Underneath her nightgown, Mara carried a long Kyber crystal with her, attached to her neck with a silver chain. She took the crystal out, moved it back and forth between her small hands.

She had promised Nagina, her former kindergarten teacher, to stay true to herself. To be better than any Jedi or Sith. It was a promise worth keeping. The Force needed scions. One day she would build her own light sabre. But not yet. There was still much to learn.

 

 

**3\. Mon Mothma on Chandrilla**

  
Usually, the start of her day was marked with nothing but a steaming mug of coffee, black and no sugar. But today Mon Mothma had enough time for a rich Corellian farmer breakfast. She was having a prolonged weekend on her home planet. Which meant her parents were able to spoil her senseless. But she did not mind.

Smiling, the red-haired senator ate a carob and almond brownie smoothie bowl. Then she moved on to cut into three large buttermilk pancakes. She had them with a lot of caramel syrup, won from the local sugar beets. Even though she started feeling like a nerf ready for the slaughter, she reached out for a pear and oatmeal muffin and eyed the silver dish with the fish appetizers. She could spot rainbow trout, eel and, her favourite, salmon. Perhaps a spoon full of fingerling – lime caviar – would not hurt.

“You are not pregnant, are you?” inquired her father, once an an arbiter-general in the days of the Republic.

“Of course not, dad,” pouted Mon Mothma. “As if I would have the time for a baby.”

Her mother, the current governor of Chandrilla, rolled her eyes. They were of a pale blue-green as her daughter’s. “Would Crix mind?”

“Ah, don’t start me on him again.” She put her cutlery down and pushed her plate away. “We are having a break. Because it’s...”

“Better for the comeback of the Republic,” finished her father. “We know, sweetie. It is just a pity though.”

“He is such a handsome lad,” gave her mother to consider.

Her dad added, “And I miss our fishing trips.”

Silence spread. Even the service droids stopped their work.

Crix was her sweetheart since twelve years now. Her parents did not mind that he was a product of the foster care system. The Anils, good acquaintances of the Mothma clan, were a kind local family. Their love and devotion had helped the former street kid from Corellia to turn into a valuable member of society.

When she had joined the Galactic senate, becoming one of the youngest senators to date, Crix had not applied for the CorSec Academy. Instead he had enlisted with the Republic military forces on Coruscant. Just to be closer to her. He was a true Corellian, loyal to the core and hopelessly romantic.

The comlink of her father went on. “Sorry for this!” he said with a bashful smile and left the huge kitchen.

“Work?” teased the senator.

Her mother smirked. “Certainly not a problem with the gardening machines.”

“Did he learn to speak Bocce in the meantime?”

Both women broke out in laughter.

Mon Mothma’s father was a hopeless hobby gardener. Via a real estate agent he had bought this neglected farmland ages ago. He had felt the need to have a weekend residence in the country side, far away from crowded court rooms and their bad air. Since his sudden retirement, for which the rise of the Empire was to blame, he worked outside all around the clock.

The noises of an engine were heard.

Alarmed, the senator rushed through the panorama window that overlooked the main entrance. It had to be someone with allowance to enter the property. The selection was limited to only a few people.

A speeder appeared with an insane speed. It was not a new model, but old and battered X-34.

“Crix?” Mon Mothma wondered aloud.

Her father sprinted towards the vehicle.

At the same instant her mother’s com sounded. By accident she put it on loud. “Paige, this is Gita,” sniffed a woman’s voice. “Have you seen our Crix?”

“He just arrived at our farm and, wait, he is clinging on to Ethan.”

More crying vibrated through the com, but this time it had a relieved note to it. “Thanks to the Force!”

“What happened?” inquired her mother.

“Nagina. She is dead.”

Mon Mothma frowned because this name sounded too familiar to her.

“Dead? But how? She was not anywhere near Coruscant when the terrorist attacks happened, right? She had this new teaching position on Lothal.”

All in the room held their breath.

Mon Mothma’s mind was spinning.

Until now she had had no idea that Nagina Samye had been a member of the huge Anil foster family. Crix usually did not talk about his siblings. Not because he was ashamed of them. But there was always so much else to talk about when they found time to be together.

With shaking hands the red-haired senator opened the double doors of the veranda and went outside. Her father was still holding Crix, who looked awfully pale and lost.

This was not the time for political speeches. Nor was it the time to light the flames of a rebellion.

“Crix!” she called out and ran towards him.

He blinked at her and looked grateful when her arms wrapped around him.

 

 

**4\. Darth Vader on Coruscant**

  
Laurita Thom had not seen his death coming. A pity that the young man had been so trustful. At least his advice to him had been true. To suffer a rival was out of the question.

While Darth Vader watched the screaming war veteran falling down into the depths of Coruscant, he felt something odd. It was like the wings of a butterfly brushing his conscience.

Puzzled, the Sith lord looked around, but it was only him on the balcony.

He reached out in the Force, trying to confirm his theory. Only silence answered him.

**“Mistress Samye, is that you?”**

Underneath mask, his eyes formed into slits. He needed a more personal form of address.

**“Answer me, Nagina!”**

He probed deeper and deeper to no avail.

Then he went for the most daring approach. It also meant that he had to acknowledge their special bond.

**“Cousin, for the last time, speak up!”**

Only the wind in the street canyons answered him. But he could feel her presence still, meek and frightened. As if she was caught in a bad place, holding her breath.

Leaving the crime scene behind with long strides, the Sith lord made it to the 500 Republica building in record time. This most prestigious and exclusive tower was located in the Senate District. Sometimes its sight woke old memories in him, but not today. Something of great importance had happened to the only person he felt respect for. He had the feeling that only his master knew more about the matter.

When Darth Vader was about to enter the lift that led to the Emperor’s private apartment, a figure dressed in radiant colours squeezed in.

“Please forgive me, milord!” sniffed Ars Dangor, hiding his face behind a large handkerchief.

A short facial scan confirmed that the Imperial advisor had puffed eyes and that his robe had several wet spots. This could only mean one thing: true sorrow. In a nest of vipers the Sith lord had found the only person who really had cared for his master’s niece.

Lord Vader concentrated on the circuits of the lift and put the entire cabin to a hold. He also melted the camera lenses. Then he grasped the much smaller Naboo man by the neck. **“Keep breathing and do not talk aloud!”** he ordered. **“I will hear your thoughts.”**

Ars Dangor looked startled. “Is this a kidnapping?”

**“Nonsense. I am trying to have a conversation with you.”**

“Ah!” Warily, the Imperial advisor looked up. **“That’s what it is. I also take lunch invitations, you know.”**

Darth Vader had no time for courtesies. **“Mistress Samye is dead, isn’t she?”**

“How did you…?”

The Sith lord interrupted him. **“Your tears betray you, advisor.”**

“I must not cry.” The Naboo man started searching his pockets. “Not in front of the others.”

**“She was an extraordinary woman. It does you credit that you honour her passing.”**

Ars Dangor hit his face behind his large hands. “She was killed like an animal. Who ever did it murdered her Loth-cat, too, and damaged the kindergarten building.”

**“Is there an official report?”** The dark helmet came closer. **“I would like to read it.”**

“That can be arranged. We could have a lunch meeting after all.”

Suddenly, Darth Vader let go of the Naboo man as he noticed incoming data. He got the readings of a small service droid crawling down towards them. “Enough!” he said aloud. “Rescue is on its way! Get a grip on yourself again. The Emperor will not be pleased to see you like this!”

Ars Dangor had no time to stay puzzled. For the Sith lord reached out for his right shoulder and squeezed it lightly. **“I will investigate!”** he spoke into the advisor’s mind again. **“But this is off-record. Nobody, not even the master, is to know. Trust no one, but me in this matter.”**

The service robot called for reinforcements. And soon a little army started to repair the lift from the outside.

“Lord Vader?” asked Mas Amedda through the comlink. “Are you and Master Dangor well?”

“We are bored,” he bit back. “Hurry up before I decide to make the necessary repairs myself!”

A long time ago, in another life, Darth Vader had been good at fixing things. He felt that the fate of Mistress Samye, who was his cousin by a cruel twist of fate, would teach him how to mend his own destiny again.

Respectfully, he nodded to Ars Dangor and the Imperial advisor nodded back.

It was not necessarily the start of a friendship. Such was unheard of for servants of the dark side of the Force. But it was the foundation of a partnership of convenience, at least for a while.

 

 

**5\. Governor Ryder Azadi on Lothal**

  
His secretary was nervous when he stormed into his office like an overexcited eopie. Normally, the Rodian used the intercom system to ask allowance before he entered.

“How can I be of service?” Governor Ryder Azadi asked, scanning Loomis’ alien features. Perhaps he had trouble with his feisty girl-friend?

The Rodian’s distress seemed to grow. “There has been manslaughter in the Jhothal settlement.”

That alarmed the politician. “A cantina brawl that went out of hand?” he demanded to know. “Is Old Jho hurt?”

Loomis shook his green head. “The local kindergarten teacher… she...”

“Yes?”

But his secretary broke out in tears, holding on to one of the walls. “I… I… can’t.”

Luckily, another aide walked by.

“Hillary, get me the Chief of Police on the line!” he barked at the Twi'lek woman, trying to process the news that Mistress Samye obviously was no more. Only yesterday he had talked to her.

“I just spoke to him, sir.” The Twi'lek woman seemed desperate. “Commander Krennic has sealed off the area and denied him access.”

“That nerf-herder!” the politician cursed. “Why is he involved?”

“Chief Banks was told it is a government issue and therefore somebody more competent should be in charge.”

Governor Azadi was torn between anger and laughter. “Get in contact with the Imperial Palace!”

“They already told me that they do not wish to be bothered about minor Outer Rim problems,” hiked Carter. “Terrorists have tried to murder our beloved Emperor yesterday. Nobody cares about a dead kindergarten teacher from, I quote, 'a shit hole planet' of no importance.”

“Shit hole planet? Of no importance?” boomed the politician. “Well then, Hilly, get hold of Eris Harro.”

“Sir?” the Twi'lek woman asked back.

“The HNN chief manager of the Outer Rim Teritoris might be very interested to hear about the murder of a respectable Imperial citizen.” The politician shook his greying head. “I cannot believe they call us a 'shithole planet'. This is insulting.”

“Consider it done, sir.”

It pained Governor Azadi to use the dead Mistress Samye as a pawn, but her death would be the talk of the holonet for weeks to come. He wanted the murderer to get caught and to help his people to feel safe on Lothal again.

6\. Wilhuff Tarkin on board the 'Executrix'  
Being tuned in to the military musical request programme of the Imperial Forces was not unusual for a soldier who was off-duty.

Wilhuff Tarkin laid inside his humble bunk on board the 'Executrix', an Imperial I-class Star Destroyer. The only luxury he allowed himself tonight was that he had taken off his military boots. This way he was able to wiggle his toes a bit.

For about twenty minutes he had been listening to music wishes from star fleet members. The music piece that he had been waiting for had not been put on air yet. But he was sure that it would be played tonight.

The dreadful Jizz song ended and the speaker said, “Radio IF would love to salute your soldier, marine, airman or navy person. That person does not need to be a relative. You can greet a neighbour, a classmate from the Academy, etc. The only requirement is that the person is on active duty.”

The Moff’s lips formed a thin smile.

“And here is the next salute. It comes from 'Desert Fox' and goes to his comrades 'White glove' and 'Scavenger'. He wants them to enjoy a score from the ballet 'Squid Lake'. Its the identically named score Op.20a.”

Wilhuff Tarkin sat up straight.

As the brittle tones of the score filled his private quarters, he felt satisfaction claim him.

That outrageous Samye woman was over and done with.

If he would have had a vintage wine at hand, he could have opened the bottle and toasted to Gallius Rax for his elegant solution.

Of course it would have been much more interesting to drop the kindergarten teacher’s fat arse on his home world of Eriadu. Like an animal he would have hunted her over the Carrion Plateau. There would have been no mercy. She was to blame for his arguments with Garoche, his one and only son.

Wilhuff Tarkin closed his eyes, forcing back his tears.

Seven months ago his boy had died on the planet Atoan. Lord Vader had become a victim of the insurgents, too, but managed to escape badly wounded.

With his remote control he put the music louder.

There was no way to take back his last words to Garoche. But the snake who had poisoned his son’s mind years ago had been punished. This did not relieve the pain, but at least the family honour had been restored.

He was also sure, that the Emperor would not miss his former mistress much. She had fallen in disgrace many months ago. It was rumoured, mostly by Sate Pestage, that she had betrayed Palpatine with Prince Xizor first and then with Orson Krennic. No wonder that she had been exiled to Lothal then.

The Moff laughed dryly.

It was known that the elegant Falleen criminal was hard to resist for any female in this galaxy. He had manners, was insanely rich and possessed taste when it came to the arts. But Krennic, born on Lexrul of all places, was a narcissistic personality with a bad temper and too high an opinion of himself

In the end it did not matter. Mistress Samye’s throat had been slit like that of an animal of prey.

“To the glory of the Empire, may it long prevail!” he said to himself.

 

 

**7\. Bail Organa on Alderaan**

  
A light smell of ammonia hung in the air. A glance between the baby’s legs confirmed that her nappy needed an urgent change. After just an hour it was filled to bursting point again.

Leia always seemed to drink and eat for two children. Bail Organa was sure that this would never change. Even though Master Yoda had ensured him that she would forget about her twin on far away Tatooine eventually, he thought different about the matter. Some wounds never healed.

The Viceroy of Alderaan was about to bend down to the daughter, whom he had adopted nine months ago, when a muffled scream sounded through the royal chambers. It came from the dressing-room next door.

Concerned, Bail Organa surged forward and pushed the valve aside. “What is it?” he asked his wife Breha. “Are you not well?”

“Listen!” she yelped and pointed at the HoloNet screen.

Sheltay Retrac exchanged a sad glance with him, tears hung in her long eye lashes. “Her Majesty is right. You better listen to this.”

A youngster, barely out of his teens, filled the screen. He wore an Imperial media badge. In addition there was a HoloNet News patch on his left shoulder. He was dressed in a grey-blue variant of the Imperial uniform. The Viceroy of Alderaan had to admit that the adolescent was impeccably dressed.

With a pleasant voice the HoloNet reporter said, “To all who just joined us, this is Alton Kastle live from Lothal. I am here in the quaint settlement of Jhothal where a vile crime has taken place.”

A sense of foreboding came over Bail Organa. He knew only one person on that Outer Rim planet. A hostage of the Empire. His heart started to beat faster.

“The local kindergarten teacher has been brutally killed at her working place.”

The Viceroy of Alderaan ran a hand over his throat, that suddenly felt so awfully dry. This was not happening. It had to be a bad dream and nothing more.

“Evidence points to terrorist activities.”

He shook his head in denial. This was no political act. The motives of this deed had a more private nature. One of her uncle’s enemies must have gotten to her.

“Authorities cannot give us more information at present, but we will keep you updated!”

Another person came into view. It was a muscular human with greying hair and a tan. Bail Organa was sure he had seen this man some place before. Perhaps even at the senate.

“For now I am joined by no other than Governor Ryder Azadi of Lothal.” The reporter nodded towards the politician. “Your Excellency, rumour has it that the notorious Clone Wars criminal Saw Gerrera and some of his fanatic followers are responsible here.”

Pain was written all over the governor’s face. “I cannot confirm that yet. Investigations are still running.” He took a deep breath. “But let me tell you that the death of Mistress Nagina Samye causes a great loss. Not only to this community and for the children she worked with, but also to the education system of our beloved Empire. Kindergarten teachers like her are a gift to society.”

Bail Organa was not sure whether he should be touched by the words of the other politician or if he should be plain angry with him. Nagina would have disliked to be used like that.

“If Saw Gerrera is truly behind the brutal slaughter, Lothal will condemn terrorists like him. We are a peaceful world full of hard working miners, farmers and factory workers. As citizens of the Empire we do not want any more bloodshed or people who bother us with aggressive paroles against the government.”

From the corners of his eyes the Viceroy of Alderaan could see that his wife was biting her knuckles. He wanted to reach out to her, but his body seemed frozen in time and space.

“This world is no home for rebels and traitors.” Governor Azadi looked stern and unforgiving. “Cut-throats and other criminal elements had better watch out. We will report each of you immediately.”

Taking all his strength together, Bail Organa turned the HoloNet News Flash off.

“He just tries to save his people, hotshot,” sniffed his wife. “I am sure the governor does not know that Nagina was the Emperor’s niece.”

“It is still not right to use her like that,” he replied, his voice heavy with uncried tears.

Breha stepped up to him, wrapping him into her warmth. “We should plant a tree for Nagina today and remember her in our own way. Let us send for Dalus Othona!”

The Viceroy of Alderaan did not mind doing something like that. But later on he would try to get a message to Saw Gerrera. 'The Alliance to Restore the Republic' did not need radical fanatics like him. He was sure that his friend Mon Mothma would agree with that sentiment.

 

 

**8\. Gallius Rax on Jakku**

  
The news of Nagina’s demise came in via a daily rapport by of one of his underlings. Not more than a marginal note on all the current activities in the Outer Rim Territory.

With kingliness of countenance Gallius Rax, once known as the boy Galli, listened on. He showed no sign of treacherous joy. That was out of the question. He had to be a paragon for his men, an example for the new order of the universe. That much he owed to Sheev Palpatine, who had been his mentor ever since their ways had crossed.

Outside their secret underground base a sand storm raged, bringing death and destruction in its wake.

It was true that the desert could change a person forever more. The scriptures of the honoured ancestors were right about that.

Gallius Rax had been cleansed from mediocrity, from his ignorance. These days he hardly looked back at the sullen child that he had been. It did not matter anymore who he had been. The wonders the dark side, that he had been allowed to witness, had been the key to new dimensions. If anything ever happened to his master he was to be the solemn heir of the Imperial legacy.

Darth Vader was but a dysfunctional cripple and, by far worse, a dishonour to generations of Sith lords. Unstable as that freak was, he should have not been allowed to carry on the moniker. He should have been eliminated.

As for Nagina, she had been in the way from the beginning. A fat catastrophe on two wobbly legs. Not even able to bear children.

When his last underling had left the conference room and the doors had closed, Gallius Rax rubbed his hands together. Then he threw back his head and laughed, until tears ran over his cheeks.

“She is gone!” he shrieked and spread out his thin arms.

With light feet he danced around the conference table like a shaman would around a large bonfire. Instead of chants or spells ugly giggles were bursting out of him.

 

 

**9\. Maul on Malachor**

  
The dust of ages burned in his throat, but Maul did not mind that. He had breathed in the ash of these Sith warriors before, tasted their ancient wrath and pain until it had merged with his own feelings. This natural _coup de poudre_ had turned him into a soulless warrior, steeled him against benevolence, mercy and forgiveness. Th _e bokor_ – dark sorcerer - who had done this to him was no other than Sheev Palpatine himself.

The large Zabrak snarled, revealing his yellowish teeth.

Just moments ago he had crashed into an underground cave and straight onto the ancient battle field. He was trapped inside his pilot seat, at least for now. Blood ran out of his broken nose making it difficult to breath. But it did not bother him. Something else did.

“Too soon, little sister!” he mumbled as he felt her die light years away from him. “Too soon!”

Of course Nagina was not his relative by blood. Fate and the dark side of the Force had created a strong bond between them. For at least a decade they had grown up together. The approach of adulthood and a forbidden kiss had turned their world upside down.

The former Sith lord licked over his split underlip, tasting blood. His eyes remained tearless. As a toddler he had learned that crying achieved nothing. Only vengeance did, the only true constant in his life.

He closed his eyes, summoning the image of a much younger Nagina, her hands pressed against her sides. Her fire had burned so strongly in her Palpatine veins. With a lot of courage and dignity she had explained why she had to see the place where the Great Purge of Malachor had taken place. And her uncle had listened to her, a paternal smile painted on his thin lips.

“You should never have come with us, little sister,” the large Zabrak muttered. “It left a stain on your soul.”

Maul sighed, remembering her haunted face as she had gazed over the eerie battle field. An activated cross-guard sabre had been in her trembling right hand, the green light unstable and threefold.

Knowledge had always worked different for Nagina. Had made her more compassionate and forgiving with others.

“Well, I always did my thing and you did yours,” he spoke into the silence around him. “Soon I will conduct a ritual for you. Mother Talzin taught me that the _ti bon ange_ remains with the body for nine days after death. Only then it is released to face the Force and accounts for its sins. But I cannot do much for your _gros bon ange_. I hope that your uncle will show mercy there and give you a proper burial rite.”

Determined the Zabrak freed himself from the ship wreck, sending a mighty roar through the underground cave.

There was much work to do within the next days. He would not visit Lothal were she just passed away. And he certainly had no wish to return to Naboo. It was the safest option to give Nagina his last respects here on Malachor. Besides, Darth Revan had always fascinated her.

 

 

**10\. Aurra Sing on board the 'Slave I '**

  
There was never silence for Aurra Sing. Not even in the depths of space. Constantly, a stream of words, pictures and information passed by. Even in her dreams she got visited by the outside world. There was no escape.

Once the metal rod in her skull had been her dire enemy, an intruder. But over the years she had learned to live with the presence of the Rhen-Orm biocomputer forcibly installed in her head. In her line of work it was helpful to catch radio waves and turn them into electrical signals. It was priceless knowledge.

Although streaming anything often made her wakeful, the intricate songs of purrgils made the pale assassin calm. Right now a flock of them – eight individuals – was nearby. The animals had come out of hyperspace with them.

Aura Sing smiled to herself, while lolling around in the co-pilot seat. Sounds, varying in frequency from 20 Hz to upward of 24 kHz washed over her.

Purrgils were regarded as the horror of space travel. Since millennia their travel routes would occasionally clash with those of hyperlane vessels. Unintentionally perhaps, but the result was the same for the occupants of the doomed objects. Death and destruction.

“I hate to interrupt here,” Boba Fett cut in unexpectedly, “But we have to meet a client on Corellia. I just dropped out of hyperspace here at Ixtlar because I did not want to clash with those monsters over there.”

The young bounty hunter pointed at the streamlined, torpedo-shaped bodies hovering close to them. It was clear that he did not share her enthusiasm. He could not even hear the haunting songs of the giants. There was no way that she could make him understand. Most of her explanations would involve the Force.

With a sigh of regret, Aurra Sing sat up straight.

The crew of the 'Slave I' did not travel the Corellian Run, one of the largest hyperspace routes running through the galaxy, just for fun. As usual it was a business trip. And for now, the pale assassin was the assigned co-pilot, responsible for working the communication and navigation.

“Are you with me again?” the young bounty hunter asked.

Still a bit dazed, Aurra Sing nodded.

“Good, then I leave the navigation to you again. Next stop is Corellia.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but at the same moment her cursed antenna picked up something unexpected. “We need to travel to Lothal,” she let out in total disbelief.

“Whatever for?” Boba Fett wondered.

“I just picked up a message from Old Jho to Aves Samye.”

The young bounty hunter frowned at her. “Why would he send Barin’s cousin a message? How could the two possibly know one another?”

She leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. The happiness that the purrgils had given her drained out of her soul. “Nagina is dead.”

While Boba Fett made an unbelievable tantrum, close to destroying the ship’s navigation computer, silent tears came out of her eyes.

As if feeling her distress through the Force, the flock raised their voices again. It sounded like a requiem.

“This is impossible,” the young bounty hunter fumed.

When they had left the planet, some strange explosions had rocked the cityscape of Coruscant for kilometres around. But they had decided that it was none of their business and had flown straight to Vandor-3 to pick up some boxes. From there, they had continued their mission.

Mandalorian curses filled the cockpit of the 'Slave I'.

Outside in space, the purrgils glowed like ghosts, “She would not want us to mourn her, but rejoice for her,” she suggested flatly.

“If you mention the Force now, I’ll break your nose, _chakaa_ r!” the young bounty hunter roared, his features barely human any more. “She is no use to me dead.”

“Death comes to all of us, honey,” replied Aurra Sing. “It just got to her first. We might as well follow as we do not leave soon. Those purrgils might attack us any time soon.”

This was a lie, but she knew that if she stayed on and listened to the space whales, then she was lost to the current of the dark side. It had taken her years to build up the reputation of a heartless _chakaar_. Nagina’s sudden demise as hard as it was should not have the power to change her destiny now.

Her spice-addicted mother Aunuanna, the Jedi knight An'ya Kuro aka the Dark Woman, Sennex Slavers, the Hutt crime lord Wallanooga, a group of Anzati assassins – each of them had helped her to turn into a merciless weapon.

“This is what we do, we finish the mission and get in contact with Krennic. You were Nagina’s battle-adopted son. He owes you some answers.”

Boba Fett blinked at her.

“No good deed goes unpunished, honey. Look how Nagina ended. This should be a lesson for us. Stay cold!”

 

 

**11\. Prince Xizor in his favourite restaurant on Coruscant**

Throughout the known universe there was an inverse rule about urinal cakes. It was quite simple really. Even the greatest fool was able to grasp it. The more cakes a men’s room had, the less reputable that establishment was likely to be.  
  
Prince Xizor smiled to himself and flushed the water.  
  
That was not the main reason why the Manarai was an up-scale restaurant _par excellence_. As the co-owner he had a lot to say about the _intérieur_ , the _menu_ and the _ambiance_.  
  
Soft Jizz tunes played in the background.  
  
Fragrances and air cleaners were used to keep the air fresh and pleasant.  
  
The sound of table fountains helped to ease the pressure.  
  
One thing disturbed the Falleen criminal tonight though. Some males partaking in stall-to-stall chitchat. To stop them from doing that was more difficult than to make sure nobody used the table fountains as pee poles.  
  
Prince Xizor closed his toilet lid and stepped on it. Then he craned his neck a bit. Straight away he spotted two of elderly humans. Their choices of clothes were unbelievable fashion crimes. Baggy robes of garish colour were rounded off by ridiculous floppy hats.  
  
Immediately, he recognized them for what  they were: Imperial advisors.  
  
He stepped down again and sat down on the closed lid. His wrist band gave him access to one of the hidden security cameras and he zoomed in on the humans.  
  
One was a gaunt male of relatively short stature. He had brown hair and light skin. Dark, sunken eyes reigned a puffy face.  
  
The other human had beady eyes. His face was covered was covered with something that looked like dark stripes. It was mostly his smile that was disturbing though.  
  
A door opened and a third man, lean and pale, left his toilet stall. “Janus and Yupe. Where is Ars?”  
  
The gaunt one smirked. “It appears that he has gone home.”  
  
“Before the dessert?”  
  
Beady eyes laughed huskily. “Ars was always highly sensitive, when it came to the fat bantha cow.”  
  
“You told him, Yupe?” wondered the newcomer while he rushed forward to clean his hands under the water tap.  
  
“I whispered the news of Mistress Samye’s death into his ears, when we stood at the _pissoir_ together.”  
  
Prince  Xizor’s eyes widened in shock, while ugly laughter from three throats sounded the large room. None of his agents and _larbins_ had been able to break this horrendous news to him. Why did he pay them so generously, when all he needed were bull sessions like this? Talk, that w as not meant for his ears at all.  
  
Frantically listening to the three men outside, he tried to make out more details. Who had done it and why? But there was only laughter still, gleeful and terrible.  
  
There had been chaos in the city last night. Unexplained explosions at military strategic places had taken place. There had been complete radio silence from the palace. But in less than 48 hours Tarkin and Vader had put things back in order. In the aftermath it all seemed to be a big spring cleaning action.  
  
Guilt rose in the Falleen criminal. It had never occurred to him that his friend Nagina, a very special lady, had been in any kind of danger. She had been on Lothal, too far away to be a political pawn for anybody.  
  
The voices started talking again, but he did not even bother to look into his small portable monitor.  
  
“Perhaps poor Ars had a crush on her.”  
  
“On that butterball? No, he is but a fan boy. He would even wear the master´s dirty underwear if he could.”  
  
“I know via private channels that Ars was on Lothal to propose to her. She turned him down.”  
  
“Nagina never knew what was good for her, if you ask me.”  
  
His right hand curled into a fist. She would be avenged. He was sure that Jabba Desilijic Tiure, a potential Tatooine business partner of his, would back him up. During the Clone Wars Nagina had travelled to the mighty underworld boss to help him out with his traumatised son.  
  
Still laughing, the three Imperial advisors left the rest rooms and, unknown to them, the brooding Prince Xizor behind.  
**  
(Extra information: The Imperial advisors are Janus Greejatus, Yupe Tashu and Veris Hydan.)**

 

 

**To be continued!**

**Author's Note:**

> Sources:  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


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